Here is my house. There is the Sun and the garden with beehives.
You are passing along the road, peering through the slats of my gate
Expecting me to speak. Where shall I start?
Believe me, please, believe me,
one could talk as long as one wants to, about anything:
of Destiny and the snake of goodwill,
of archangels tilling
the land of man,
of heavens towards which we aspire,
of hatred and fall, of sadness and Calvary,
but, above all, about the great passage.
Yet our words are only the tears of those who wished
so much to cry and could not.
Bitter are all those words
and that is why, please, allow me
to pass in silence amongst you,
crossing your road, eyes closed.

SHORT BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE:
Transylvanian-born Lucian BLAGA was a graduate in Theology of the Sibiu Seminary, following which he took a doctorate in Philosophy from Vienna university.
After WWI, Blaga served in various Romanian embassies in Warsaw, Prague, Lisbon, Bern and Vienna, before he returned to the Chair of Philosophy at the University of Cluj. With the advent of a Communist Government, Blaga refused to back the new regime, as a result of which he lost his University Chair and was demoted to the position of librarian. Furthermore Blaga was forbidden from publishing his academic work, being only allowed to publish translations, before he is finally sent to the Communist jails. After being freed the poet comes out a shadow of his former self to die a few years later.
Lucian Blaga was proposed for the Nobel Prize by Rosa del Conte, Mircea Eliade and Basil Munteanu, but their initiative was fiercely opposed by emissaries of the Romanian Communist Government sent to Oslo for this purpose. As a result of this political machinations the Nobel Commission caved in: it will not be either the first or last of such scenarios – a sad reflection on the effect of the long hand of repressive regimes on the decision-making of an otherwise distinguished Academic Institution.